


Inspired Drabbles

by Andalusa93



Series: Prompts [8]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Bilbo Baggins Dies In Battle of Five Armies, Canonical Character Death, Firefighters, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, I'm so sorry, M/M, One Night Stands, Pining, Smaug is a cat, Smut, Thorin Oakenshield Lives, first attempt at real angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-22
Updated: 2015-10-21
Packaged: 2018-03-31 17:29:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3986638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andalusa93/pseuds/Andalusa93
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of very short stories, inspired by art, au lists and headcanons<br/>Each chapter is a completely separate story :)</p>
<p><strong><em>Chapter 1</em></strong>: Fili - Inspired by <a href="http://srapsodia.tumblr.com/post/117272542484"> this post</a><br/><strong><em>Chapter 2</em></strong>: Not A Burglar - "my stupid cat sneaked out on the balcony and into your open window and he has this habit of destroying furniture and pissing everywhere so i followed him inside and you came home earlier than i expected and found me in the middle of your living room but i swear i’m not a burglar ok"<br/><strong><em>Chapter 3</em></strong>: Fire - "I’m a firefighter and you live near the station I work at and we talk/flirt with each other a lot. One day me and my team get called to put out a fire and it’s your home ablaze."<br/><strong><em>Chapter 4</em></strong>: Last Saturday Night - Bilbo is smitten with the new bartender.<br/><strong><em>Chapter 5</em></strong>: Nasty things, adventures - sorry (Bilbo dies au)<br/><strong><em>Chapter 6</em></strong>: Ashes - Follow up to Fire<br/><strong><em>Chapter 7</em></strong>: Shield - Bilbo wakes after Azog falls through the ice</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fili

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by [this post](http://srapsodia.tumblr.com/post/117272542484)

All Fili was aware of was the cold ice pressed against his face, the deep chill had soaked to his bones, making his movements heavy and sluggish as he pushed himself into a sitting position. He had no idea how long he’d been out, but it was obvious the battle was still raging on the plains below. A cacophony of noise assaulted his ears, both real and imagined. Clashing metal, Kili’s scream, desperate war cries and Azog’s laughter. He shuddered and blocked the sounds out.

Once on his feet, Fili stretched as best he could to limber himself up and rejoin the fray. He was a Durin, he was still alive, he could still fight. Uncle had said as much. Fili spotted a double headed axe not too far away, he picked it up, his muscles protesting as they bore the heavy weight. Merely concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other, thanking Mahal that the others had cleared the hilltop of any stray orcs and goblins, Fili rounded the corner of the crumbling building.

Thorin was there, walking slowly across the thick ice of the river, his eyes cast downwards following something in the running water beneath. “Uncle!” He called. His voice was wrecked, Fili coughed and tried again, his voice a lot stronger, though it was still a little raspy. “Thorin!”

His uncle turned, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. He took a step towards his nephew, who barely had time to take in the blood soaked robes, the matted hair and the tired slump of the shoulders of the man he looked up to as a father for so long when there was an almighty crashing noise. 

Whatever was under the ice broke through not even three feet behind Thorin. Fili yelled again and ran over the ice, even as his uncle swung around, lashing out wildly with his sword. Azog easily dodged the blow and grasped Thorin with his remaining hand, an evil grin spread over his scarred face as he drew his other arm back, ready to deliver the final blow.

“No!” Fili screamed, he was too far away, he wouldn’t make it. At that moment his legs gave out and he was sliding uncontrollably towards the pale orc. The momentum carried him forwards until he crashed into his legs, causing him to fall, just in time.

They were all stunned by the fall, but Thorin was up in a flash, Fili watched helplessly from the ground as he grasped Orcrist with both hands and plunged the blade deep into Azog’s gut with a grunt. The orc didn’t make any sound, even his last breath was a faint whisper lost amongst the indistinct sounds of battle that drifted up from below.

And that was it. It was done. The battle was far from over, but Azog was dead. Thorin sheathed his sword and walked over to Fili, he heaved his nephew to his feet, stooped to pick up the fallen axe and placed it in his hands. “It’s not over yet, come Fili.”

They walked slowly, side by side, to the edge of the frozen waterfall to survey the carnage. Just then a small voice came from behind them. “Th-Thorin? Fili, you’re alive!?”

“Bilbo.” Thorin breathed out, Fili watched his uncle look the hobbit over, taking in the nasty looking cut on his head, dutifully ignoring the way his breath hitched when it became obvious that Bilbo was fine.

A shadow passed over them, then another. Together they looked up. Relief flooded through his body, flushing out any remaining adrenaline, and suddenly he was tired. So tired he could curl up right where he was and sleep for a week. 

“Are they?” Bilbo didn’t bother to finish the question as he looked to the bloody, beaten dwarves beside him.

“The eagles are here.” Fili said and stared in wonder at the majestic birds circling the battlefield, picking off the orcs one by one and in that moment he allowed himself to believe: they would make it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come visit me on [Tumblr!](http://andalusa.tumblr.com)


	2. Not A Burglar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "my stupid cat sneaked out on the balcony and into your open window and he has this habit of destroying furniture and pissing everywhere so i followed him inside and you came home earlier than i expected and found me in the middle of your living room but i swear i’m not a burglar ok"  
> Inspired by [this post](http://andalusafics.tumblr.com/post/118943326055/wlfstar-list-of-aus-i-really-need-to-see-written)

“Smaug?” Bilbo called as he peered behind the sofa, knowing full well the cat couldn’t respond. “Smaug?” He pushed off the over soft cushions and wondered down the small hallway of his flat and stuck his head around the door to his bedroom. “Where on Earth have you gotten to, you horrible creature?” Bilbo huffed to himself as he opened the door to the bathroom, just in case he had somehow been trapped in there, but there was no sign of him.

 

That blasted animal was more trouble than he ever thought a pet could be. The lady at the adoption centre had assured him the large, ginger tom was a great choice for him. ‘A well behaved lap cat who requires little attention, but gives loads of affection!’ She had said. 

Not a word of that was true. Bilbo was sporting long scratches down his arms less than an hour after getting Smaug home, he had ripped large chunks out of the corner of Bilbo’s sofa, the curtains that usually covered the balcony doors had been torn down and that animal had a serious aversion to using the litter tray. Not even a week later, Smaug was missing. 

Bilbo had been searching for the cat for the past half hour, he was supposed to be meeting a friend for lunch, but when he went to bring Smaug inside and shut the balcony door, there was no sign of the ginger menace. He wasn’t in any of his usual hiding spots and Bilbo was starting to worry. 

Smaug wasn’t an outdoor cat, even if he had jumped off the balcony and survived the drop, he wouldn’t last long on his own. At least that’s what the lady had said. 'Never been outside on his own, he’d probably think a mouse was a friend.’ Then she laughed. Bilbo let out a huff as he went back out onto his small balcony and scanned the ground several stories below. No, the vicious creature would probably tear the poor mouses legs off one by one and eat it alive. 

He froze when he heard a sudden crash. It hadn’t come from inside his own flat, it had come from the open window belonging to the flat next door. Bilbo groaned and gripped the railing in front of him. Just his luck, he thought, just his luck. 

There were a two options, Bilbo could either go and rescue his pet, or leave him in there and face the wrath of a very annoyed neighbour this evening. While it might have been an excuse to finally talk to Mister Tall, Dark and Handsome, it wasn’t exactly an ideal situation. Besides, his neighbour worked long hours, he was never home before 5pm and it was barely past noon now, he could be in and out of there and the fellow would be non the wiser. Provided whatever it was that Smaug had just knocked over wasn’t broken.

Mind made up, Bilbo pulled himself over the railings of his own balcony, not daring to look down, and pushed himself forward. His body bridged the narrow gap between the neighbouring balconies briefly, he pushed forward again and fell face first to land in an unceremonious heap on the unforgiving concrete ground.

Bilbo got up and brushed himself off, swearing under his breath the whole time, then turned to face the next obstacle. Thankfully, the window was more than big enough for him to fit through, he pulled it further open and slipped into the flat. The layout was a mirror of his own, so it shouldn’t be an issue to find his way around, he surveyed the lounge and saw no immediate damage. 

His gaze drifted over to the kitchen area, a couple of pans were on the floor, obviously the source of the sound. Bilbo sighed in relief, nothing broken, so he could just make it look like nothing had even happened. He picked the pans up and put them back on the counter, judging by the slight heap of dirty dishes in and around the sink, it wouldn’t be too noticeable if they weren’t in the exact same place as they had been left.

There was no sign of Smaug, though. The loud noise must have given him a fright and sent him running. Bilbo walked back into the lounge, a small movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention and he turned to face the armchair pushed into the corner. He made a clicking noise with his tongue, hoping the sound would lure the cat out. 

Bilbo ran a hand through his hair and accepted the inevitable, he walked to the chair and leaned over the back of it, only to be greeted with a hiss and claws aimed at his face. He jerked back, used to this tactic already, then lunged to grab Smaug by the scruff of his neck. It wasn’t comfortable for either of them as the cat squirmed in his grip, even after Bilbo managed to get a hand under his belly to support him.

It was at that point Bilbo heard a key in the lock of the front door, he turned to look at the door, eye wide with fear. Smaug took this distraction as an opportunity to wriggle out of Bilbo’s hands and find somewhere else to hide.  
“Smaug! Get back here!” Bilbo ordered in a loud whisper, futile, he knew it was pointless, the cat had already vanished. “Smaug!” He only wished he was able to do the same as Mister Tall, Dark and Handsome opened the door and walked into his home.

For a split second, Bilbo wondered if he had disappeared as the man hadn’t registered him and dropped his keys into the bowl on a table by the door. Bilbo stood as still as possible, arms still in the strange position they had been when he still had a cat occupying them, not even daring the breathe. Of course, the man did notice him in the next moment, he froze as well; panic, confusion and fear ran across his face as he saw an intruder in his flat.

“I promise I’m not a burglar!”

"What the hell are you doing in my flat!?”

They had both started to talk at the same time, one high pitched voice full of apologies clashed with one that was deep, low and threatening. Then Smaug did something Bilbo would be forever grateful for, he knocked the pans off the counter again, the sound demanded the attention of both men stood in a stalemate.

Bilbo pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed as he watched his cat dash out of the kitchen, pause briefly in the centre of the lounge, then run out the open door to the flat. He looked back at the man still stood in the doorway, he seemed a little less tense now, bewilderment had overridden any other emotion he might have been feeling as he also watched Smaug make a hasty exit. 

“Not a burglar.” Bilbo repeated. “I live next door and he got out.”

“I see.” The man said, he tilted his head and examined Bilbo. 

“You’re not usually home this early, so I’d hoped to get him back before you got in.” He went on, so very aware of the hole he was digging himself into, his cheeks heating up as the man didn’t respond. “I’ll go get my cat now.”

The man stood to one side to let Bilbo pass, his eyes never leaving him, even when he was out in the corridor. Bilbo let himself look up at Mister Tall, Dark and Handsome and immediately wished he hadn’t. He was grinning. Bilbo muttered an apology and scampered away, he cheeks turning a brighter shade of red as he heard the man chuckle lightly before shutting the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi on [Tumblr!](http://andalusa.tumblr.com)


	3. Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’m a firefighter and you live near the station I work at and we talk/flirt with each other a lot. One day me and my team get called to put out a fire and it’s your home ablaze.

It was a strange contrast. 

His back was cool, Thorin could see the flashing blue lights in his peripheral, people rushing to prepare equipment, shouting instructions to one another, but he daren't move. All he could do was stare as dread crawled its way up his spine.

The front of his body was warm, even through his protective clothing Thorin could feel the heat of the crackling flames before him. They reached high into the night sky, thick grey smoke billowed upward, flakes of ash mingled like dead stars among the ones that still twinkled. 

"Get a move on, Durin!" His partner yelled over the suddenly deafening sirens, it snapped him out of his trance like state and he pushed the knowledge of who lived in the burning house to the back of his mind.

Thorin knew the drill, some sort of overriding instinct took over when he was working, he checked his ventilator even as he surveyed the building, pushing away the voice that said occupant survival was near to non-existent. He tested his radio, all team members coming through clearly. A quick nod at his partner to let him know he was ready. The team leader was issuing commands, laying out the plan, who was to go in and survey the interior and check for any occupants, who would stay outside and monitor the exterior and man the hoses. When the word was given, Thorin marched forward, braced against the heat that enveloped him as he entered building.

-

"Having a bit of trouble there?" A bright, amused sounding voice drifted over to him from a nearby garden.

Thorin looked up to see a man, a man leaning over his garden fence, one hand on his hip and the biggest smile on his face. Taking in the gardening gloves, the trowel and the smudge of dirt on the man's face, he could only assume he was tending to his flowerbeds. _Who gardens at eight in the morning?_ Carefully lowering his foot, one he had raised in anger and fully intended to use to curbstomp his accursed bicycle into pieces, Thorin returned the smile with very little grace. 

"Anything I can help you with?" The stranger asked, his head tilted ever so slightly, the morning sunlight caught the curls of his honey brown hair just so, it shone like gold.

"Unless you can repair a puncture _and_ a broken chain in less than five minutes, I highly doubt it." Thorin said as he picked his bike up and wheeled it over to the garden fence.

Then the man had the gall to laugh at his misfortune! Thorin grumbled to himself and turned back to his bike, ready to leave. It really wasn't his morning. 

"I'm sorry," The man chuckled and he ran a hand through his hair. "That was incredibly rude of me."

Thorin just looked at him, eyebrows raised.

Something seemed to occur to the stranger then, "Wait here," He told Thorin, then disappeared down the narrow space between his house and the next, he returned soon after, wheeling a bike of his own down the garden path. "You can borrow mine if you like, return it on your way home?"

-

Thorin thought of that bicycle now, as he took tentative steps through the burning hallway, he remembered scoffing at the wicker shopping basket attached to the handlebars, the indignant huff the man gave at Thorin's disapproval, but the freely given smile at his thanks and promise of its safe return. 

While the flames had spread quickly, there was no sign of any significant structural damage in this part of the house. The mostly wooden furniture had aided the fire in its devastating progress through the house, the chemicals from the varnish gave the air an acrid tang that stuck to the back of Thorin's throat, even with his breathing apparatus.  
He relayed this information back to the team outside who gave them the go-ahead to head further into the house. His partner indicated the room to the right, Thorin gave a nod and followed him in.

-

That peculiar first meeting had led to an equally peculiar friendship, though they never actually saw each other outside of that particular situation. The man, Bilbo, seemed to spend all his time in his little garden, Thorin couldn't blame him, they had been lucky with the weather over the summer. Warm days gave way to dusky evenings and rain only ever seemed to fall during the night.

It was a lovely way to start the day when he passed by in the mornings, a wave and a quick hello over the garden fence, but when he was faced with a night shift Thorin made sure to set off earlier in the evening so he could have a proper conversation with him. Work never seemed quite so difficult after seeing the happy, golden haired man leaning against his fence with that ever present smudge of dirt on his cheek.

-

It wasn't raining tonight. If it had started since they entered the house, Thorin couldn't hear it. The roof of the lounge was charred, soot gathered in the corners of the room, the heat was suffocating. Above the mantelpiece a pair of portraits hung, by some stroke of luck, they were unaffected so far. In both of the faces that stared back at him, he could see Bilbo. In the eyes and mischievous smile of the woman and the shape and hair of the man.

The room was sound, the temperature was much lower in here, all the damage beneath the flame was superficial at the moment. Thorin's gaze lingered on a book balanced on the arm of the sofa, fingers of orange just reaching up the side to touch at the already blackened spine. A tap on his shoulder startled him, his parter shook his head and tipped his head towards the door.

-

Bilbo's moods were a thing of wonder, one day he could be flirting outrageously, laying his hand on top of Thorin's as it rested upon the fence, the next he could be storming about his garden, the tips of his ears tinged red as he ranted about some distant relative. Thorin's favourite by far were the excited little grins he would give as he approached, they were always followed by Bilbo rushing into the house before coming back with a plate full of baked goods.

"This is really good." Thorin complimented him one time around a mouthful of lemon cake.

Bilbo snorted and slapped his arm. "Don't talk with your mouth full, honestly, no manners!"

Thorin smiled and swallowed the cake, exaggerating the movement for Bilbo to see, not missing the way his eyes followed the bob of his adam's apple. "Says the man who just assaulted me." He retorted.

A small bag of goodies always ended up in Thorin's back pack, Bilbo made him promise to share them at work, but after the the teasing that followed the one and only time he made true on that promise, he usually kept them hidden and ate them all to himself when he got home.

-

The kitchen was the obvious source of the outbreak, the temperature spiked as they entered the room, there wasn't a single surface free from hot, white flame. It was close to flash point. Thorin prayed to any god that might be listening that the layout of this house stayed true to most others, that the bathroom was directly above and not the bedroom. 

His partner gave him a questioning look as he reported back to the team leader that room was savable. Thorin knew if he told the truth, said that is was beyond saving, they would be called out immediately to reassess their action plan. 

They moved out of the kitchen and back into the hallway, a loud crash came from upstairs as something collapsed. Paying no mind to protocol, ignoring the shout of alarm from his partner, Thorin ran up the stairs, he didn't hear them groaning in protest beneath him.

-

He saw less of Bilbo as the summer drew to a close, the days were still dry, but brisk winds kept people indoors and drove Thorin to take the bus more often. It was selfish of him to expect the man to wait for him every day, but he felt the loss keenly, going so far as to knock on his door on the way to work one evening.

The door opened and a small child grinned up at him, all missing teeth, bright blue eyes and unruly black curls.

"'Ello!" He said, he bounced on the balls of his feet, a veritable ball of energy ready to explode. "Who are you?"

Thorin didn't know Bilbo had a son, there was never a mention of one, surely the child would have been out in the sun, playing as Bilbo saw to his garden. Completely caught off guard by this unexpected development "Uh, is yo-"

"Frodo! What have I told you about answering the door?" Bilbo's voice carried through the house and the boy, Frodo, looked startled. Frodo bolted as soon as Bilbo came into view, skipping around the angry man as he strode down the hall. "Oh, hello, Thorin!" A bright smile quickly replaced the irritated look on his face.

"Hi." Thorin was at a loss, he hadn't planned beyond this, the sudden appearance of the child had disorientated him. "I didn't know you had a son."

"Ah, that's my nephew." Bilbo corrected him. "A little trouble maker, if ever there was one." His smile turned into a fond one when glanced over his shoulder. "Would you like to come in?"

"Perhaps some other time," He declined, ignoring the way Bilbo's smile fell away in favour of a confused frown. "I was passing and I just wanted to say hi, see how you were." _I missed you_."You've got company, I've got work, so..." Thorin trailed off.

-

It was too warm, too much smoke gathered around his feet, the flames were too bright. The roar of the fire, the rush of his blood in his ears and the pounding of his heart drowned out any other noise. Thorin was aware of people calling his name, but he ignored it. There was another crash, followed by muffled clattering as something else fell apart. 

-  
They bumped into each other in town one day and went for coffee, it wasn't the tea Bilbo had offered on so many occasions, but it was nice to spend more than ten minutes in the company of this strange man who had become an almost integral part of his life. Bilbo was part of his routine now.

-

"Thorin! We have to leave!"  
"No, I need to find him."  
"Thorin!"  
"I need to get him out."

-

They had arranged to go on a picnic, Thorin had finally gathered the courage to ask Bilbo on a date. Bilbo's response was not what he had expected.  
"About damn time."

-

It had started to rain. It wasn't heavy, just a soft drizzle, enough to wet everything it touched, but it did nothing to control the blaze. Hoses had been set up, they were for containment rather than saving. Half of the house had collapsed.

-

The grass of the park was still damp, so they had to forego the blanket and sat on a bench instead. Bilbo laughed at something, a joke or some offhand comment, he head thrown back as careless joy fell from his lips.

-

Thorin couldn't bare to look any longer. He turned his back on the building, now a smouldering wreck. The ambulances and police had arrived at some point. A team of paramedics rushed into the house.

-

Their fingers twined together as they fed the last of the sandwiches to the pigeons, Thorin turned to look at Bilbo, a serene smile on his face, the sun had just broken through the clouds and set his hair aglow.

-

He didn't want to hear it, but the sound echoed through the still air, his heart twisted, far more painful than the burn he was being treated for.

-

Bilbo pointed out various flowers as they walked through the park, he picked one from the ground and handed it to Thorin.

-

The gross, plastic sound of a zip, the rattling of wheels over tarmac, a door slammed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry, like first attempt at real angst...so. sorry  
> Feel free to yell at me on [Tumblr.](http://andalusa.tumblr.com) (where you can also find an [alternative ending](http://andalusa.tumblr.com/post/128159339282/fire) because asdfah)


	4. Last Saturday Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Posted to Tumblr in 3 parts, this trash ficlet is based on actual true events that happened.

_From: Bofur, 21:10  
He’s here again…_

Bilbo stared at his phone for a second before quickly typing a reply.

_To: Bofur, 21:10  
God fucking damn it_

He had just changed into his pyjamas and settled in front of the television with a glass of gin and tonic, fully intending to fall asleep where he sat before the crappy movie he had just switched on ended. Now this text from Bofur had changed everything, his friend had tried to convince him to join the gang for a few drinks in town, Bilbo politely declined. He had no inclination to go out and drink when he could the very same thing from the comfort of his own lounge.

There was one exception, however. There was a new barman at the local Wetherspoons. And he was perfect. Bilbo groaned and leaned back on the sofa, why did Bofur have to inform him of his presence? It was absolutely ridiculous, pathetic, so fucking stupid that he was actually considering changing out of his pyjamas and into some decent clothes in order to go out just so he could shamelessly ogle this wonderful example of a man. 

Bilbo wrestled with himself for a few minutes, he just knew the looks he would get from the rest of the group if he showed up. No, he decided, he would not go. His phone buzzed in his hand.

_From: Bofur, 21:17  
So me: Oh! I need to text Bilbo! She might come out if she’s craving those forearms. [Cue forearms rounding the corner with a bowl of onion rings for Bombur who is sat next to me] *hides face in hands and hope he heard nothing*_

Oh, how dare he! Bilbo thought. He knew, Bofur knew he had a weakness for those arms. They were truly exceptional arms, it had to be said, Bilbo had given up on trying his hardest to not stare at them whenever he went to the bar on the off chance he might be there and serve him.

_To: Bofur, 21:18  
FUCK OFF I LITERALLY JUST GOT INTO MY PJ’S_

He wouldn’t stand for it, not for a second, he would not be bullied into going out.

_From: Bofur, 21:19  
Sucks to be you, maybe I should flirt with him on your behalf._

Bilbo sucked in a breath. He wouldn’t dare.

_To: Bofur, 21:20  
Don’t even look at him_

The three minutes it took for Bofur to reply were the longest of his life. He wouldn’t, he _couldn’t_. Bilbo knew his pining was really stupid, but he might pluck up the courage to actually talk to the barman one day.

_From: Bofur, 21:23  
THERE IS NOTHING YOU CAN DO TO STOP ME! *EVIL LAUGH*_

_To: Bofur, 21:24  
LEAVE THE PRECIOUS CINNAMON ROLL ALONE_

Bilbo ran a hand through his hair once his message was sent. He had to be joking, Bilbo thought to himself, he was just doing this to get him to go out, and god dammit, it was working. He stood up and wondered through to the kitchen and on to the utility room. Bilbo crouched in front of the tumble dryer and looked through the clothes in there. 

_From: Bofur, 21:29  
I feel like there is a really dirty joke about icing that I could make right now… but he is a real life person and it seems too easy._

A sigh of relief escaped him, not that he didn’t trust his friend, it’s just he knew that he probably would say something, Bofur was completely shameless. If he did anything, it wasn’t meant in a horrible way, it’s just how he was. 

_To: Bofur, 21:30  
Shush! Just….. shush :| gdi I really want to come out now but I’m all gross_

Bilbo grabbed a shirt from the dryer and put in on a hanger to let any creases drop out. He wasn’t about to admit to Bofur that he had already succeeded in coaxing him out of the house.

_From: Bofur, 21:31  
Have a wash we’ll be out for a while._

Not that he hadn’t already figured that out. Bilbo pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. This was so dumb, the guy probably didn’t even know he existed, and here Bilbo was mooning over him like a lovesick teenager.

_To: Bofur, 21:33  
I am pathetic jfc. One drink. I will have one drink._

_From: Bofur, 21:33  
Yay._

Bilbo tutted and shook his head again. So it was all a ploy.

_From: Bofur, 21:34  
And yes, you are._

He rolled his eyes and went to his room to change. After Bilbo scrubbed his face and dragged a comb through his hair, he was presentable, if nothing else. Fifteen minutes later he found himself sat at a table surrounded by his friends, who didn’t even bother to be discrete about how amusing they found the whole situation, hiding his face in his hands.

“I hate you.” Bilbo said to Bofur, his voice muffled from behind his palms.

Bofur just laughed and patted his back. “I know.”

\---

Bilbo just sulked for a little while, his friends carried on around him after they had gotten over his shameful appearance, not all of them knew about the situation he found himself in, but Bofur had obviously filled them in. They kept glancing at him every now and then with these little grins on their faces.

“So, are you going to get a drink?” Bofur eventually asked him.

“Yes!” Bilbo replied entirely too quickly, but didn’t move, he just continued to sigh and gaze in the general direction of the bar, waiting for him to appear. 

“Well, if you’re just going sit there, I’ll go and get you one.” 

“No! No.” Bilbo put a hand on Bofur’s shoulder and forced him back into his seat. “I’m going.” He glared at the other man for a second then stumbled out of his chair and round the corner to the bar.

Bilbo didn’t have to wait long to be served, the person he came here to see had just finished with the group of people he was seeing to, Bilbo couldn’t help but let his eyes wonder and linger on those arms as he put some empty glasses in the sanitiser. He looked around and saw Bilbo, who quickly averted his eyes, waiting and started to walk over, when another barman came up.

“What can I get for you?” He asked.

“Uh, gin and tonic, please.” Bilbo couldn’t deny that he was disappointed.

He leaned on the bar as his drink was made, but quickly stood back again, eyes wide and unable to stop himself from gasping just a little bit when those god damned freaking arms entered his vision once again. The bar man was wiping the bar right next to him. Bilbo stared. He couldn’t help it. He watched the slight flex of muscle as he swirled the cloth over the wooden surface. His jaw clenched as he watched, not fully registering the fact that that particular patch of the bar was completely free from any sign of drink spillage.

Bilbo glanced up and saw the bar man was looking right back at him. He felt his face heat up and turned away. Why couldn’t he just say something? He mentally kicked himself and kept his eyes firmly fixed on his own hands until his drink was placed in front of him. Bilbo handed over some money and made his way back to the table as quickly as possible. Bofur didn’t even wait until Bilbo was back in his seat before he started laughing.

“Shut up,” Bilbo said, not looking at him. “Not a word.” He ran a hand through his hair and leaned his head back. “I am so fucking pathetic.” Bofur shrugged, he took a sip of his drink and continued to watch Bilbo with a huge smile on his face. “What?”

“Nothin’ at all.”

Bilbo managed to immerse himself in the conversation, he laughed along with any jokes that were told, contributed a few stories of his own but every time that bar man walked past to collect empty glasses or wipe down tables his attention was dragged away from his friends. It was like an involuntary response, the way his eyes raked his body only to linger on his arms, or his arse or the the shadow that fell just so to define his stubbled jaw. It wasn’t fair. Bilbo was also hyper aware of Bofur watching _him_ , no doubt with a smile on his face.

At some point Bilbo finished his drink and went to get another, despite the fact he had specifically said he would only come out for one, but he wasn’t done ogling yet. The bar man wasn’t anywhere to be seen, much to Bilbo’s disappointment, perhaps he was on another glass run. When he got back to the table he saw every member of the group was looking in the same direction. Bilbo did a quick headcount and saw that Bofur was missing. He, too, turned his head to see what they were all looking at.

“What is he doing?” Bilbo asked, his voice completely flat as he tried to process what he was seeing. 

Sat at a table, just in view of their own, was the bar man. He had a plate of food in front of him, he was clearly on a break, a fork laden with food halfway to his mouth which was quirked into a slightly confused looking grin as he responded to whatever Bofur had just said to him.

“ _Whatishedoing!?_ ” He asked again, frantic now as the bar man nodded and chuckled. But, oh, that smile, he could have melted.

It was then that Bofur looked across, caught Bilbo’s eye and he winked. Bilbo lost it, he didn’t wait to see what happened next, he slammed his glass down on the table, spilling most of it, and bolted toward the toilets. He heard the laughter, but chose to ignore it as he stood in the stairwell that lead to the bathrooms. A couple of minutes later, when Bofur rounded the corner, Bilbo grabbed his arm.

“What did you say to him?”

“Nothing.” Bofur said lightly, carefully extracting his arm from Bilbo’s grip. “I just asked him how his food was.”

“I- You- _What?_ ” Bilbo leaned back against the wall, feeling very confused.

“I just asked him how his food was.” Bofur repeated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I said: How’s your food? He said: Uh, fine, thanks. Why? Then I say: Oh, it’s just ‘cause when people order food, you guys always come and ask how everything is, but I noticed no one came and asked you, so I thought I would. Then he laughed and told me his name is Thorin, you’re welcome, by the way, I tell him my name, and he goes: Well, thank you for asking, Bofur, my dinner is very good. Then we say goodnight to each other and here I am.”

Bilbo had sunk down against the wall until he was sat on the floor as he listened to Bofur’s story, his head once again cradled in his hands. His name is Thorin. 

Bofur nudged his foot expectantly. “So, are you gonna come back to the table?”

When Bilbo nodded he felt himself being hauled upright and led back to their little gathering. From then on, he kept to himself, not wanting to make an even bigger fool of himself. Although, Thorin seemed to be hovering around their table once he was back to work. Bilbo couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but only a few of the tables around them needed any attention, and the bar man had already spent more time than necessary making sure they were clean and free of glasses. 

At least he managed to keep his composure this time, only stealing occasional glances as he leaned over table or tugged the sleeves of his shirt back up. Bilbo sighed when there was nothing more for Thorin to do and he walked back to the bar.

“He kept looking at you, y'know.” Bofur whispered to Bilbo, making the other man jump.

Bilbo huffed and took a sip of what was left of his drink. “Yeah, right.”  
Bofur leaned over and knocked his shoulder against Bilbo’s. “He was, promise you, would this face lie to you?” The man beamed at him, before conceding defeat at the look Bilbo was giving him.

“Are we moving on?” One of the others asked, this prompted Bilbo to look around, he saw that everyone else had finished their drinks.

“Mmhm, we’ll wait for Bilbo, though.” Bofur nodded.

“No, it’s fine, just leave me here to pine.” Bilbo waved away the concerned look Bofur shot his way. “Or dig me a hole six foot deep and bury me, either is fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, yeah. I was gonna head home after this one, anyway.” Bilbo told his friend. “Seriously, go! Have a good night!”

And so they did, leaving Bilbo to nurse the last of his gin and tonic alone.

\---

Bilbo stood outside to wait for a taxi after finishing his drink, arms crossed tightly mostly to wards off the slight chill in the air, but partly due to the frustration he felt towards himself. If he could just follow the same advice he gave to anyone else when they decided they liked someone: ‘Just tell them’. He would say. 'You’re an adult, they’re an adult, tell them and see what happens’. But no, Bilbo couldn’t even do that, the very thought of it petrified him.

It was close to midnight now, it was cold, Bilbo just wanted to go home, have a nice hot cup of cocoa and go to bed. Whatever higher beings that looked down on him seemed to have different plans as a quiet, deep voice broke him out of his pathetic brooding.

“Don’t suppose you’ve got a light?”

Bilbo spun around and was confronted with a sight he was not quite prepared for. Thorin stood just outside the door, a leather jacket had been added to the clothes he already wore, sadly hiding those delectable forearms, and a cigarette hung loosely from his lips. His hands patted at the pockets of the jacket not finding what he was looking for. 

Just his luck he was prepared for this sort of eventuality and always carried a lighter with him, enough of his friends smoked and they all had a knack for misplacing their own, so Bilbo always made sure he had one in his back pocket. He nodded dumbly and handed it over, ignoring the sensation of Thorin’s fingers trailing against his own.

“Cheers.” He said as he lit the cigarette and sucked in a lung full of smoke. “You want one?”

Bilbo shook his head, not trusting himself to say anytihng. They were actually interacting, talking to each other (well, Thorin was talking to him), and that was more than he could have hoped for.

“It was a bit rude of your friends to just leave you like that.” Thorin stated, now leaning against the door frame.

“Ah, not really.” Bilbo shrugged. “They’re stopping out and I was going home after that drink anyway.”

“Oh.” 

Bilbo didn’t want to kid himself, get any kind of false hope, but there might have been a hint of disappointment in the sound Thorin made. It certainly wouldn’t do anything to hurt the situation if Bilbo were to prompt him for some elaboration. “Oh?”

“It’s just that I’ve finished for the night.” Was that a blush spreading over Thorin’s cheeks as he spoke? “And I was wondering if you fancied staying out for a couple more.” 

Well, he certainly didn’t beat around the bush, Bilbo blinked one, twice and took a deep breath. This couldn’t be happening. Not really.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to.” Thorin said quickly, one hand reaching up to scratch at the back of his head. 

“No!” Bilbo blurted out, a smile made its way onto his lips and he took another deep breath. “I would love to.”

Thorin sighed and smiled as well. “Good.”

“I’m Bilbo.” He held out his hand, he had to use all of his self control to not swoon when it was gripped and given a firm shake. 

“Thorin, though I have no doubt your friend in the funny hat already told you that.” Thorin stubbed out his cigarette and tipped his head away from the pub. “Shall we?”

They walked, side by side, away from the Wetherspoons and towards the only decent cocktail bar in town. It was quite pricey, but it was a lovely place, nice and homely and they made one of the best cinnamon apple bites Bilbo had ever tasted. Thorin insisted on buying him a drink, ignoring all of Bilbo’s protests, even going so far as to wait for Bilbo to go to the toilet before ordering a second drink for them both. 

It was strange, they were basically complete strangers, but they just seemed to mesh. While Thorin had initially seemed quite intimidating with his height and his stern looking face, once he relaxed he was incredibly free with his smiles and laughter, and that did nothing to help the infatuation. Whenever Bilbo spoke, he was so very aware of Thorin’s eyes on him, watching intently, soaking up all the information put to him.

Time passed, but they were in a bubble all of their own, when the bar tender called last orders they both jumped, surprised at the sound of someone else’s voice. Thorin asked if Bilbo wanted another, but he declined, already feeling a pleasant buzz. They made their way outside again, Thorin lit another cigarette, careful to keep the smoke away from Bilbo, but he didn’t mind. Feeling incredibly bold, Bilbo looped his arm around Thorin’s free one as they walked back through town.

The taller man let out a small huff of surprise, but said nothing when Bilbo peered up at him with a small grin on his face, instead, he pulled his arm free and put it around Bilbo’s shoulders, pulling him closer to his side. 

“Do you want me to walk you home?” Thorin asked, his voice deep and smooth, even asking the most innocent questions, it sent shivers down Bilbo’s spine in the most wonderful way.

“I was just about to ask you the same thing.” He laughed. “Or we could split a taxi?”

“Well,” Thorin ducked his head and smiled. “You kind of already have, I live above the pub.”

“Oh! That’s convenient.”

Thorin stepped away from Bilbo, just a minute distance, but Bilbo felt himself leaning towards the heat that seemed to emanate from the taller man. He already missed the weight of Thorin’s arm resting on his shoulders. They just stood staring at each other for a moment, waiting for the other to make the first move.

“Coffee?” Thorin offered tentatively.

“Really?” Bilbo arched his eyebrows and rolled his eyes. “I think we both know we won’t be drinking coffee if I agree to go up there with you.”

Thorin choked on his cigarette smoke, eyes wide and, oh yes, there was a definite blush creeping over his cheeks now. He recovered quickly and ducked his head again, unsure what to say next.

“Oh, bother this.” Bilbo muttered, he took a step forward, reached a hand up to cup the back of Thorin’s neck and pull his head down. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to do this.” He murmured, then placed a firm kiss on Thorin’s lips. 

Everything moved far too fast for Bilbo to keep track, there was some hair pulling, playful nips and a _very_ nice growl from Thorin when he dropped his keys in the rush to get inside. It was a rush to move to the bedroom, the effort to remove clothes was sloppy, there was no grace or dignity in how they shamelessly toppled onto the bed in a fit of breathy giggles with only their shirts discarded.

It was then time slowed back down to normal speed, and for this, Bilbo was thankful. He found himself on his back, Thorin hovering above him with an arm on either side of his head to support his weight. Bilbo couldn’t stop his hands from exploring Thorin’s back, just feeling the way the muscles shifted under his skin when he made the slightest movement. The _sounds_ Thorin made were delightful, ranging from a deep, almost inaudible purr to sharp gasps and moans. 

“I’ll have you know I don’t normally do anything like this.” Thorin whispered into the skin of his neck before placing a light kiss there. He moved his ministrations down Bilbo’s chest, his teeth teasing his over sensitive skin.

Bilbo’s fingers tangled in Thorin’s hair as he moved closer and closer to the waistline of his trousers, he let his head fall back against the bed and he felt his hips rise when Thorin moved his hands down, one ghosted over the bulge, the other fiddled with the button of his trousers. Bilbo was so lost in the moment he didn’t notice that Thorin had stopped, moved back up so he could face the man underneath him.

Thorin’s voice was hoarse, so perfectly ragged and broken sounding. The words he spoke, however, weren’t quite as pleasing. “I’m not going to sleep with you, Bilbo.” He said.

Bilbo looked at him, their eyes met and Bilbo leaned forward so that their lips would as well. He could quite happily kiss this man for the rest of his life, but Thorin had other plans. He moved so that their foreheads touched, his blue eye’s never leaving Bilbo’s.

“Not after you’ve been drinking.” He went on, then a wicked smile graced his face, causing a light fan of wrinkles to spread out at the corner of his eyes. “But if you are one hundred percent sure you want me to do something about this.” Bilbo felt Thorin give his straining erection a firm squeeze through the fabric of his trousers. “I will. If, at any time, you want me stop, just say so.”

“I’m not _that_ drunk.” Bilbo protested.

“But you _are drunk._ ” Thorin gave him a look. “I’m not going to take advantage of you, Bilbo, I’m not _that guy._ ”

Bilbo regarded the man, with his forehead touched to his own, with a small smile. Even if things didn’t go as far as he wanted tonight, what had already happened was more than he could ever dream of, on top of that, there seemed to be an unspoken promise of more. Bilbo tilted his head and closed the gap between them, capturing Thorin’s lips in a sweet kiss, his hands once again ventured downwards and cupped his arse, pushing down ever so slightly. 

When Thorin rolled his hips the friction caused them both to gasp, fingers fumbled at the button on his trousers, this time Thorin managed to wrestle the thing open. Bilbo let his head fall back again, but he could feel the slight shake of Thorin’s hands as they dragged his trousers down with his underwear, when they were pulled free, his hands whispered over his skin. Barely touching, hardly any pressure, but where ever went, Bilbo could feel it like a blazing trail of warmth and tingles. 

Thorin shuffled down the bed so he knelt between Bilbo’s knees, when Bilbo looked up his leaking cock twitched as he took in the sight before him. Dark hair mussed, lips slightly swollen, a light flush spread across his cheeks and chest, his own erection straining against his already tight trousers, his pupils blown wide as he looked down at Bilbo sprawled on his bed. Ever so slowly, with just a bit more pressure, Thorin ran his hands up Bilbo’s legs, pressed his fingers into his soft thighs, then with no more pretence, one hand gently gripped him and gave an experimental pump.

“ _Fuck!_ ” Bilbo hissed, he couldn’t hold it back, he squeezed his eyes shut, already on the cusp coming.

Together, they found a rhythm and Bilbo was a writhing mess within minutes, when he heard a deep, stuttering moan coming from Thorin he opened his eyes to find the dark haired man palming himself through his trousers, his gaze fixed on Bilbo. It took all of Bilbo’s self control to not spill right then. 

Their eyes met and Thorin stuttered, his steady pace faltered, his grip on Bilbo’s cock tightened and it was too much. With a groan, Bilbo released, not caring that it didn’t last that long, he gripped at the duvet and let Thorin sooth him through the orgasm until he came back down. Thorin leaned over him once more, eyes glazed and hooded, pupils still dilated, he pressed a kiss to Bilbo’s brow.

“You’re so beautiful.” He said.

Bilbo smiled lazily, he felt boneless. “Do you want me to… give you hand?”

“No need, it’s been a while so…” Thorin cleared his throat and gave a little shrug, not quite meeting Bilbo’s eyes. He rolled to that he lay next Bilbo on the bed, he took a hold of the other man’s hand and brought his knuckles to his lips, placing butterfly kisses on each one in a seemingly absent minded gesture of affection.

“Hey, that’s fine.” Bilbo assured him, he looked over at Thorin then gestured at the mess on his stomach. “Let’s go get cleaned up, I don’t fancy getting this all over your bed.”

It didn’t take long for Bilbo to wipe himself clean, at Thorin’s insistence, he borrowed a pair of boxers to sleep in (though Thorin did say he didn’t mind if he chose to wear nothing). He was close to sleep when he felt the bed dip down next to him, a brief blast of cool air as the duvet was lifted, but that was soon forgotten as a pair of strong warm arms wrapped around him and a kiss was pressed to his bare shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in this story I am Bilbo, my sister is Bofur and Thorin is a cute/hot/perfect specimen called Tom who works behind the bar of my local Wetherspoons, all the texts are ones actually exchanged between my sister and myself, the conversation up until canon divergence is as accurate as I remember it.  
> Canon ends when the gang leave Bilbo, everything after that is divergence because I need to try writing stuff that isn't fluff, so I thought I'd have a go at smut.
> 
> Come say hi (or leave me a prompt) on [Tumblr!](http://andalusa.tumblr.com)


	5. Nasty things, adventures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on [this](http://radioproxy.tumblr.com/post/125097958676/andalusafics-radiorcrist-no-master), [radio](http://radioproxy.tumblr.com) is an awful person

He should have felt the cold ice pressing into his back, he should have felt stinging pain from his wounds, he should have felt an ache in his muscles. All Thorin felt was a strange calm, in this final face off with the pale orc, the one who had killed his Grandfather and dogged their steps throughout the quest, he knew he wouldn’t survive, not this time. As he struggled to keep Orcirst steady a few fleeting thoughts entered his mind, most of them were of regret. That he wouldn’t be there for his sister when she discovered she had lost yet more of her family, that his final words to Bilbo were ones of anger, that his youngest nephew would have so much responsibility to shoulder at such a young age. 

As Azog snarled down at him and put more pressure on his blade Thorin could feel his strength begin to fail. He was about to move his sword aside when he heard a distant yell, the sound was closely followed by Bilbo barrelling into the orc standing over him. The impact made Azog stumble, and though he didn’t fall, it was enough of a distraction for the orc to turn his attention from Thorin to the hobbit. 

Bilbo had rolled on the ice, but he quickly got to his feet and held his sword out in front of him with a look of defiance on his face. Thorin felt his chest clench with fear as the orc advanced on the hobbit. Bilbo swung his sword and stepped back, but Azog was too fast, he reached out with his arm and knocked the hobbit’s weapon away. 

Thorin stood and moved as fast as he could towards them, he could barely stand as all things he should have felt caught up to him. Pain shot through his foot where it had been stabbed and he almost collapsed when he put any weight on it. He was almost there, he was so close, but time seemed to slow down. Thorin watched with wide eye as Azog lashed out with the flat side of his blade. The impact sent Bilbo reeling to the ground.

“No!”

His cry caught the orc’s attention, Azog looked back over his shoulder and grinned. Thorin watched, helpless, as Azog brought his blade down once, twice, three times. On the third impact, Thorin heard a sickening crack. Even if Bilbo wore the mithril, it didn’t protect against the force of an attack, his ribs would be shattered. Azog was about to deliver another blow to the hobbit when Thorin got to him.

Thorin didn’t waste any time, he stabbed Azog in the back, he pushed Orcrist as far as he could. He felt the pale orc tense around his sword, if he yelled, if Azog let out any sound of pain, Thorin didn’t hear it. He pulled Orcrist free, stabbed again, wrenched his sword to the side and let the orc and his weapon fall to the ice.

There was no time to process what had happened, a soft cough drew his attention back to Bilbo. The hobbit was breathing, at least he was trying to, every breath was a struggle, each time he inhaled he shuddered. Thorin knelt beside him, painfully aware of the tears streaming down his face. Bilbo wasn’t supposed to die. Not like this. He brushed Bilbo’s hair away from his face and shushed him when he tried to talk.

“It was supposed to be me.” Thorin whispered. “I’m so sorry, forgive me, Bilbo.” He bowed his head over the hobbit, his hands found Bilbo’s and gripped them tight. 

“There’s nothing to forgive, Thorin.” Bilbo managed to choke out, the effort of talking was almost too much, he coughed as his breath caught on any further words he was going to say.

Thorin blinked and stared down at Bilbo, even though the hobbit smiled he could see the fear in his eyes. His breathing was getting more and more shallow, blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. Bilbo raised a hand and pressed it against Thorin’s cheek.

“I’m so sorry to have lead you into such peril.” He sobbed as he leaned into Bilbo’s touch.

“No, I’m glad to have shared in your perils, Thorin.” Bilbo coughed again before he could continue. “Each and every one of them. It’s far more than any Baggins deserves.” 

“Bilbo.”

The hobbit gripped his arm and let out a gasp. He squeezed his eyes shut, as if he could will the pain away, when he opened them again he was looking directly at Thorin. “Nasty things, adventures.” He looked as if he was going to continue, but he didn’t.

“No!” Thorin’s eye widened as Bilbo’s breath slowed further. “No, no, no! Bilbo! Bilbo… don’t you dare!”

A shadow passed over them and Thorin looked up to see the eagles circling high above, he cradled Bilbo and lifted his head off the ice.

“Bilbo, hold on. The eagles, the eagles are here, Bilbo!”

Thorin tightened his grip on the hobbit, refusing to believe that he was gone. 

“The eag-” His voice broke and he doubled over, it was too much. He let out a cry of despair and held on to Bilbo. Slowly, almost reverently, he touched their foreheads together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry, feel free to yell at me on [Tumblr](http://andalusa.tumblr.com)


	6. Ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A follow up to Fire

"I heard the police found evidence to suggest it was a deliberate attack." A voice said, it was hushed, not intended for his ears, Thorin heard it anyway above the general din of the coffee shop. "They have a few leads, but nothing concrete."

Thorin let out a low growl and turned back to the as yet untouched drink in front of him, tuning out the whispered conspiracies. Of course he already knew about this, even though he had been signed off work, his colleagues kept him updated on any developments. It had only been three days, Thorin swore he was fine, but after almost assaulting his partner when he told the boss about Thorin's behaviour during the call-out, they decided it would be best if he took some time off.

Compassionate leave, they called it. Thorin would rather be back at the station, even if it meant passing by the charred husk of Bilbo's house every day, he could lose himself in his work. Instead, he sat alone in a coffee shop scowling at a beverage as if it had done something to offend him while he waited for her.

Primula, that was her name, Bilbo's cousin. She was here to help with funeral arrangements, and she wanted to meet him. Apparently Thorin had been a regular topic of discussion between the two of them. 

The little bell above the door rang as someone came in, Thorin looked up and he could only assume it was her as she scanned the room and her eyes fell on him. She gave him a sad smile and approached, it was evident she had been crying recently, Thorin wondered if his grief was as obvious. A barista came and took her order and returned rather quickly with her latte. 

"It's great to finally meet you." Primula said. "Even if the circumstances are somewhat regrettable." 

Thorin looked at her for a moment, she reminded him of Frodo, the same round face and dark curls. The young lad was definitely his mother's son. 

"He talked about you a lot." She went on, her fingers tight around her coffee cup. "How did you meet?"

"I was on my way to work." Thorin smiled bitterly at the memory, even thinking about him left a foul taste in his mouth and made his chest tighten. "My bike broke and he laughed at me." He tapped the table a couple of times before he continued. "Then offered me his own, a complete stranger."

"That sounds like him." Primula chuckled then sighed. "Always thinking of others, little Frodo always looked forward to visiting."

"How is he?"

She dropped her gaze slightly and drew in a deep breath. "He doesn't know."

When Primula looked back up at him, there were tears in her eyes and Thorin's heart broke all over again.

"I don't know how to tell him." She said, a single tear escaped before she furiously wiped at her face with the edge of her sleeve. "How am I supposed to tell him his Uncle Bilbo is gone?"

Thorin reached out and caught her hand in one of his own. He didn't have an answer for her, it still didn't feel real to him, there was nothing he could do to help this poor woman.  
"He's a smart boy, Prim." He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. 

She smiled at him then, it was sad and watery, but it was also warm. Primula gently removed her hand from his and took a small sip of coffee.

"You're coming to the funeral?" It was more a statement than a question, but Thorin nodded anyway. "Good, he would want you there."

They exchanged stories while they finished their drinks, of course, Primula had many to tell. Wild exploits of their youth and teenage years, Bilbo's travels and dabbles in illustration before he settled on writing. All too soon it was time for them to part ways.

"You loved him very much." Primula said as they stood to leave.

This caught Thorin off guard, it wasn't something he could admit to himself, if he did, he knew he would break. If he thought about the could-have-beens and what-ifs he would never move on. Though truthfully, Thorin didn't know if he wanted to.

"He loved you, too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sab wanted a follow up, so a follow up she shall have  
> Come shout at me on [Tumblr](http://andalusa.tumblr.com)


	7. Shield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"What if Bilbo had woken up after Azog fell under the ice? Would Thorin run to him, demanding to know if he was injured? If he was alright? Then after Azog broke out of the ice, would Bilbo use the mithril to his advantage and become Thorin's Bagginshield once more? While the blade won't pierce the mithril, Bilbo would have some nasty bruising, to the bone, and would be winded. Thorin would panic at first, thinking that he was dying, then probably kiss him in relief when he saw the mithril"_

Bilbo groaned, his head was pounding and everything ached. He blinked to try and clear his vision, the sky a perfect shade of white as snow threatened to fall. A dull thudding sound closely followed by a wordless shout caught his attention, he looked around for the source. Other than that familiar sounding yell, a foreign snarl and occasional muted sound of impact, Bilbo’s world was silent. 

He pushed himself up into a sitting position and found a rock to lean against, being hit in the head with the butt of a weapon was definitely on his ‘would not recommend’ list. As time went on, Bilbo noticed the distant sounds had stopped. He tried to get up, but his legs were too shaky. 

“Thorin!?” The name echoed in the air and he was greeted by silence, so he called again. “Thorin!”

“Bilbo?” The dwarf’s voice was distant. “Bilbo, where are you?”

They called to each other a few more times and soon enough Thorin was jogging up to him. Orcrist clattered to the ground when he knelt beside Bilbo. A cold hand cradled his cheek and the other ghosted over the cut on his head.

“Are you okay?” Thorin asked in a whisper. 

“I’m fine, Thorin, really.” Bilbo tried to assure him, the hiss he let out when Thorin gently pressed down on his wound betrayed him.

“You need to see a healer.” 

Bilbo’s derisive laugh died on his lips when he finally looked Thorin in the eye. He saw panic, exhaustion and two other things he wasn’t entirely sure could be real, if he had to put a name to them, he would say regret and love. 

“Are you okay?” He asked.

Thorin sighed and looked away. “My mind is clear, if that is what you’re asking.”

“Good.” 

A heavy silence hung between them for a moment, both wanting to say something but unable to find the words.

“I’m sorry, Bilbo.” Thorin finally spoke. “I’m sorry for everything, for the way I treated you, for the things I did and said at the gate, for leading you into such peril. If you wish to depar-”

“Thorin.” The hobbit cut him off. “I know it wasn’t you. I would be lying if I said there was nothing to forgive, but I _know_ it wasn’t you.”

Thorin was about to speak again, but a load roar interrupted them. They both looked around to see Azog running towards them. Water dripped from his body, his weapon held high and murder in his eyes. Thorin tried to reach Orcrist, but the blade was too far away. He glanced between the approaching orc, the sword and Bilbo calculating his next move.

It was almost too late. Bilbo let out a cry and sprang between Azog and Thorin.

“Bilbo, no!” 

Bilbo choked when the blade hit him, even with the mithril to protect him from being stabbed, the impact winded him. The distraction gave Thorin enough time to grab Orcrist and decapitate the orc. 

Once again he dropped the sword and fell to his knees beside Bilbo. “Bilbo?” With shaking hands he cradled the hobbit’s head, his eyes too focused on his face to notice the absence of any blood.

“I’m fine, you idiot dwarf.” Bilbo coughed. “Look, see?”

He pulled his shirt to the side to reveal the mithril and Thorin gasped. 

“How came you by this?” He asked as he traced the detailed collar of the mail shirt.

Bilbo gave him a questioning look. “You gave it to me, before the battle.”

“ _I gave it to you?_ ” Thorin pulled his hand away from the mithril as if it had burned him. “And you accepted?”

“I didn’t really have a choice.” Bilbo chuckled. 

“Oh, Bilbo, I…”

“What is it?”

“Nothing.” Thorin grinned and glanced away for a moment. “I will explain some other time.” When he looked back at Bilbo there was a fire in his eyes. “If I’m being too forward, please let me know, but I feel this is long over due, Master Burglar.”

With that, he leaned down and captured Bilbo’s lips with his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi on [ Tumblr!](http://andalusa.tumblr.com)


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